


My Commitment to You

by Justagaybean



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A neighbor holiday fic? Wow I’ve outdone myself with the tropes, Akiteru shows up for a hot second, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beta Read, COVID-19 fic, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking & Talking, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, It’s a Holiday Fic this is a Holiday Fic, Kinda, M/M, Minor Character Death, Neighbors, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Years, Strangers, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 09:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28348920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justagaybean/pseuds/Justagaybean
Summary: Hurt/Comfort Strangers to Something-Else Neighbors AUKei Tsukishima has hated Christmas since he was a kid. He can still remember seeing the Christmas decorations hung up in the hallways as he walked out of the hospital for the last time with one less parent than before. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s spending Christmas alone. So, when he hears his new next-door neighbor, Tadashi Yamaguchi, breaking out the Mariah Carey karaoke at full blast and the wreaths on the door, Kei is less than ecstatic. But when Kei finally bangs on Tadashi’s door to get him to shut up, Kei realizes that Tadashi just needs someone to talk to. And maybe Kei does too.A holiday TsukkiYama fic (with some Christmas and New Year’s fluff)
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei & Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 71





	My Commitment to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LessonsFromMoths](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LessonsFromMoths/gifts).



> Welcome to my hell fic, 11k words of pure fluff and angst. Prepare for toothaches and heartaches (hopefully) and prepare yourself for a ton of TsukkiYama.
> 
> This is late for Christmas but early for New Year’s so my schedule is very much fucked up.
> 
> TW: Minor character death and mentioned alcoholism. It’s subtle and in flashbacks, but it’s there.
> 
> Dedicated to LessonFromMoths, because Jo, you’re an angel.

Kei Tsukishima hated the cold with a passion. He hated the way the wind seemed to slap him in the face, biting at his cheeks and nipping at his ears. He hated how the few times he did go outside, his fingers would be ice cold and his cheeks red and his eyes watering. 

_It’s literally the first day of November,_ he thought sourly, as he fumbled with his keys with one hand, pulling off his mask with the other. _Why the hell is it so cold already?_

Unlocking his apartment, he nudged the door closed and started unloading the small bag of groceries that he had slung haphazardly over his shoulder. It was the weekend at last, and Kei collapsed into bed. He was tired, the kind of tired that settled into his bones with a dull ache, not quite sleepy, but not the kind of satisfying tired that you feel after you’ve accomplished something. He just felt tired, yet at the same time, he was wide awake. 

He shivered.

Cold air seemed to seep into his apartment like a slow, stubborn leak. He inhaled, and the crisp air of early November fills his lungs despite having four walls surrounding him, and only one small window with decade-old grime covering the outside.

This is what he got for moving to the great New York City. A cramped studio with a twin-sized bed. And in the middle of a COVID-19 world, he was stuck inside that cramped studio for the majority of his day. His back ached from being crouched over a computer, his fingers stiff from the hours of typing in a room without any heat.

Sometimes he wondered if there’s any point to it all. Any point to being in this city, working in his tiny apartment with a broken heater. He remembered, just a few years ago, feeling almost eager to be in the famous city, where dreams came true and life came alive. He remembered the discovery of new places and new things, chalk drawings on sidewalks, faint trumpet music coming from down the block. The city that never slept, he was told, how the streets were always alive with sound and the lights that never turned off.

It was magic to him in a way, and he remembered looking around this city with amazement, his pessimistic side warning him that the feeling of high-flying euphoria wouldn’t last.

It didn’t.

And now, when the virus plagued the city, hospitals filled to the brim and people scared for their lives, the last remaining bit of hope that the magic would stay in the air was gone.

His pessimism had always stuck with him, but now it just felt like it was tugging him further and further down, slowly, like being dragged into an endless pit of his thoughts. Kei had long since stopped fighting against it, just let himself be dragged down further into this pit until it felt like the last glimpse of sunshine that used to shine into it was gone. 

He’s so _tired._

* * *

The next morning, he woke up to the sound of faint music playing through the walls of his apartment.

He nearly screamed in exasperation. Why didn’t he live in the suburbs, again? Where he could rent a two-bedroom for the same price as this crappy apartment, with several feet between neighbors rather than a four-inch wall? He reached blindly for his glasses with one hand.

He finds them and shoves them on. Dust was clinging to the lenses, but he didn’t bother to clean them, he never does. He swung his legs out of bed, but he paused, listening intently. 

Briefly, something flickers in the back of his mind. _I thought I didn’t have a next-door neighbor?_ But he doesn’t stop to think about it too much, because as his mind still clings to the last of sleep, the music next door is being turned up.

_I, don’t want a lot for Christmas._

Kei furrowed his brow, and he leaned toward the wall, trying to decipher what sound was so important to be played at—he glanced at his clock—10AM.

_There is just one thing I need...I don’t care about the presents, underneath the Christmas Tree._

Familiarity brushed his mind. He leaned closer.

_I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know…make my wish come true..._

Oh, God. Not this. He leaned away from the wall, but the words are still loud and clear.

_All I want for Christmas...is…you!_

Mariah Carey’s mellow, smooth voice is belting through the walls. 

_Oh my fucking God._

Kei almost stormed right out of the apartment in his sweatpants to give his neighbor a piece of his mind. It was _not even_ Thanksgiving, for fuck’s sake. The first day of fucking _November._ Anyone who played Christmas music this early in the year and in the day was insane and needed help.

He thought better of it, though, managing to settle down into his creaking mattress, inhaling before exhaling slowly. He shut his eyes and thought for a moment. He could put on headphones to block out the sound. He could go for a walk to avoid the music. He could kindly ask his neighbor to turn down the music, or play it some other time, or with headphones, instead of blasting it so loudly at 10 AM.

Unfortunately for him, however, one earpiece of his crappy 12 dollar headphones didn’t even work. He hated walks, not to mention it was raining, cold November drizzles that hit against his grimy window with sharp taps. And kindly asking someone to stop doing something was not in his abilities, especially not someone who he’s never met before at 10 in the morning.

He groaned aloud, stuffing his face into his pillow and trying to focus. _Just stay calm. Don’t storm over in a fury. Don’t punch the wall. Just stay calm._

He breathed a few more times, his ears covered. _Stay calm. There’s no need to react. There’s no reason to yell. You can just stay calm. Stay. Calm._

A few minutes later, he lifted his head and listened intently. The sound had faded slightly, and he strained to hear if there was something still playing.

It had stopped.

Kei sighed in relief. He breathed out slowly. _See? Nothing to get riled up about. There was no need to freak out._

When did it get like this? When did he go this far as to hate Christmas this much? He rolled onto his back and stared at the cracked paint that covered the ceiling. Wasn’t he getting better? Would things ever be normal? Or would he be stuck in this endless cycle of Christmas hatred?

He puffed out another sigh, and the faintest bit of steam appeared above him. He inhaled sharply. _Screw this. Screw broken heaters. Screw landlords and leaky windows. Screw New York City, the Big Apple, The City That Never Sleeps—_

Kei stopped himself. 

_Breathe._

He shut his eyes, letting himself breathe slowly. He opened his eyes.

_Focus._

He stared at the floor. It was Saturday morning on November 1st. Ten minutes past ten.

_Think of something else._

Okay. What would he make for dinner? He had some leftovers from the other night. He’d reheat them for lunch and dinner and he’d have eggs or something for breakfast.

_Keep breathing. Stay focused._

_Stay calm. Stay focused. Keep breathing._

_Stay—_

_—checkin’ it twice, gonna find out who’s naughty or nice, Santa Claus is—_

Okay. Nope. That was it. He got up, shoved his chair aside, and pulled on his shoes, positively fuming. He snatched up his mask and slipped it on, before storming over to the door and wrenching it open. He walked down the hall in two long strides and found himself in front of his neighbor’s door, and paused for a moment with his hand hovering in midair.

Okay. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe he could just turn around and go back into his apartment and he wouldn’t have to argue with his new neighbor about blasting Christmas music in the morning. 

He was half considering this for a moment as the music died slightly. Inhale. Exhale.

_Just. Stay. Calm._

He rang the doorbell.

It was quiet for a moment, the only sound being the faint sound of the bell sounding through the hallway and the muffled sound of _Santa Claus is Coming to Town._

And then the door swung open.

Thoughts of protests and complaints died on the tip of his tongue as Kei stared down at the person in front of him.

He exhaled.

 _Well, fuck. They look too nice to complain about._ They had long dark hair that was pulled haphazardly into a ponytail, with strands of hair loose. A smattering of pale freckles sprinkled all over their face. But perhaps the most striking was the expression on their face, a look of sweet innocence and mild surprise. Kei found himself staring at them.

They blinked at him, then broke into a smile. “Hi,” they said. “Are you my neighbor? I’m Tadashi Yamaguchi.”

After a short pause, Kei managed to crack a forced, polite smile. “Kei Tsukishima.”

_Tadashi Yamaguchi. A male Japanese name. A Japanese guy my age, and barely any shorter than me. What are the odds?_

His neighbor beamed brightly. “It’s great to meet you,” he said, then his eyes widened suddenly. “Oh, shit!”

He disappeared from the doorway for a moment before popping his head out again, now adjusting a mask on his face. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting visitors—come in, come in!” he opened the door invitingly.

Kei hesitated.

“Oh, if you’re not comfortable with it—”

“It’s fine,” he said awkwardly, stepping into the apartment, and Tadashi shut the door after him.

He stood in the entrance of the apartment, his hands clasped in front of him, and almost immediately, his tense shoulders relaxed a bit. _Wow._ His apartment was warm, warm enough that Kei’s fingers were tingling after being in his cold apartment for so long. He inhaled slowly. The thick, sharp smell of spices and vanilla greeted his nostrils, and he sighed. Tadashi noticed, and his eyes crinkled, and Kei guessed he was smiling under the cloth of his mask. “I’m baking pumpkin bread,” he said cheerfully. “I was going to give it to you, but if you want, you can eat it here, right out of the oven.”

Kei’s eyes jumped over to look at Tadashi. “Oh, I couldn’t intrude—”

“No, no, it’s fine, but only if you’re okay with it! I haven’t seen anyone in weeks, I’ve been cooped up in here for a while—sorry I’ve never introduced myself! It’s been kind of busy, I just finished unpacking, finally—”

Kei let his eyes wander as his neighbor rambled, still standing awkwardly near the door when his eyes landed on a small Bluetooth speaker on the small bit of counter space in the kitchenette. It was playing _Jingle Bell Rock._

Tadashi followed his gaze. “Oh...it’s kind of loud, isn’t it? Has it been bothering you?”

Kei was about to deny it before he remembered why he came here in the first place. “Just a little,” he admitted.

“Sorry!” Tadashi gave a small duck of his head before snatching up a phone that perched precariously on the edge of a small wooden table. “Here, sit,” he said invitingly, drawing a chair and gesturing to it, lowering the sound of the music to a soft murmur. Kei’s shoulders relaxed and he slipped off his shoes, nudging them to the side of the door with a socked foot.

“Do you like cocoa?” Tadashi asked him, pulling a battered saucepan and a box of cocoa powder out of a cabinet, setting them down next to the speaker.

“Oh…” Kei sat down, feeling very out of place in this small yet incredibly cozy apartment. “I don’t want to be of any trouble.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all!” Tadashi reached into another cabinet and pulled out a little container of sugar. “I haven’t talked to anyone in ages, this is just a welcome change.”

Kei didn’t know how to respond to that. Tadashi fell silent after a moment, the only sound being the soft murmur of _Jingle Bell Rock._ He looked around the cramped apartment—it was the same layout as his, but somehow it felt more comfortable. There were two chairs at the table, and there was a tall stack of books and bits of paper on one side of it, covered in scribbled notes. There were several half-unpacked cardboard boxes, with more books, several binders, and neatly folded shirts. He cast a glance to the side, where framed photos lined the wall.

But what struck him the most were the decorations.

Crepe paper chains in bright crimson and green were draped over every available space. A wreath of pine and holly decorated the inside of the door. A tiny Christmas tree sat in the corner, alight with multicolored strings of lights, handmade ornaments on every branch. Paper snowflakes, slightly crumpled with folded-over edges were hung over every available space. Two red-and-white stockings were hung on the window hatch, already stuffed, bits of tissue paper sticking out.

Nausea hit him like a truck, burning the back of his throat. He swallowed and averted his eyes, staring at the dented wood of the table in front of him.

Tadashi set a mug in front of him. “Well, what can I do for you?” He asked, dragging the other chair away from the table until it was right against the counter. “Do you mind if I take off my mask?” He asked, tapping his own mug gently with his fingertips.

Kei shook his head. “I…”

And his mind blanked. What did he come here for in the first place? All he knows is that five minutes ago he was ringing the doorbell, and now he’s sitting in his neighbor’s apartment with a mug of cocoa.

He was racking his brains for a reason when something brushed up against his leg.

He jolted and glanced down, and there, winding in between his ankles, was a bright orange cat, rubbing its face against the fabric of his pants. He coughed out a laugh in surprise. “Why, hello there,” he said to the cat. 

Tadashi giggled, and Kei’s thoughts were momentarily distracted because _wow that sounded really nice._ “That’s Cheeto,” Tadashi informed him. “She’s a bit of a social butterfly. Miso should be somewhere around here.”

Kei chuckled. “Two cats, huh? Miso and Cheeto?”

“Yeah,” Tadashi rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve had them for only a few years, though. Those are their stockings.” He gestured to the stuffed socks hanging from the window.

Kei nodded and sipped at his cocoa, and instantly, his mouth was filled with a rich, luxurious taste. Sweet, creamy chocolate was dancing on his tongue, fudgy and smooth, and yet somehow it was just the right temperature, hot, but not burning his tongue, just enough to warm him to his very toes.

He almost choked at how good it was, but he managed to swallow. “This is really good,” he said, looking to Tadashi with a small smile.

Tadashi brightened, his spine straightening. “Really?”

“Really,” Kei confirmed, lifting the mug to his lips. “You must have a knack for baking. That pumpkin bread smells delicious.”

Tadashi’s face flushed. “Ah...it’s really simple to make,” he said, his cheeks red.

“I’m sure it isn’t. I can cook, but I can’t bake. Much too difficult for me.”

His face flushed even more, and Kei found himself enjoying it immensely. He liked getting people riled up—his friends could vouch for this—but now he just wanted to make him...flustered.

“You seem like an excellent cook, though. It smells amazing when you make dinner,” Tadashi said bashfully. “I used to live with roommates, they absolutely forbid me from cooking. I’ve been surviving on instant and takeout for the past few weeks.”

Kei laughed. “Cooking’s simpler, though. More improvisation than anything.”

“Not for me. Improv isn’t my thing.”

Kei laughed again. Tadashi started—as if he hadn’t meant to make a joke, but did—and grinned, somewhat nervously.

“Cooking can be learned,” Kei said, taking another sip of cocoa. _Wow._ Sweet, rich flavor was flooding his senses. A dance seemed to be taking place on his taste buds. “Baking takes patience. Precision. Things I definitely do not have.”

Tadashi shrugged. “Patience can be practiced.”

Kei hummed. “Well, I’m 25. Patience hasn’t exactly come to me yet, I feel guilty of saying.”

“Now’s as good a time as ever.”

“You’ll have to teach me some time, then.”

“Then if cooking can be so well taught, you’ll have to teach me that sometime as well.”

“So be it.”

Tadashi grinned. Kei did, too, but stopped himself suddenly.

“I should get back to my apartment,” he said sheepishly. “I meant to just introduce myself.”

“Oh,” Tadashi’s eyes dimmed slightly. “Yes, of course. I’ll bring the pumpkin bread later if you like.”

“Thank you.” Kei stood, slipping on his mask.

Tadashi stood as well. “It was wonderful to meet you,” he said. “We should do this again.”

Kei smiled at him, before realizing he couldn’t see it through the mask. “Of course,” he said. “And you’ll have to teach me how to bake.”

“The same to you for cooking, good neighbor,” the man replied cheekily.

Kei laughed.

* * *

_Kei still remembered the Christmas music playing as he entered the hospital._

_He remembered the decorations lining the walls. Glitter covered elves and reindeer and Santas with white beards. The brightly colored streamers and shiny snowflakes hanging, the lights strung up, flashing bright lights. He remembered the tinny sound coming from the radio that sat at the front desk._

_He remembered struggling to keep up with his mother as she rushed through the emergency room doors. He remembered how she dashed up to the front desk with a wild look on her face, demanding to see his father. How the nurse spoke calmly and directed her to the correct room. How he tried to follow but was stopped, and how the nurse quietly explained that minors weren’t allowed in the ER. Akiteru’s hand on his shoulder, leading him to a seat._

_He remembered sitting and waiting, staring at the glitter and shine lining the walls. Akiteru had gripped his shoulder tightly the entire time, as if he’d slip away any moment. How the radio crackled with static, singing out the holiday season as Kei listened with increasing dread._

_He remembered how his mother walked to him slowly._

_How her shoes clicked on the linoleum tiles._

_How Akiteru stood. How his mother stopped walking._

_How Kei looked to her, a gaping chasm in between them._

_With cracking holiday music singing out from that godforsaken radio._

_And for a moment hung on thin-spun threads, the three just looked at each other._

_They hung there for long, painful seconds, stretching out silk strings, dangling over this gaping chasm as Kei grasped to the last bits of hope._

_Hoping that maybe it wasn’t true._

_Hoping that his father was okay._

_Hoping that any second his father would walk out of those glass doors and that Kei could dash into his arms and lift him up as if he were five years old again. Hoping that he could bury his face into his father’s body and inhale, and that he’d smell like cologne and peppermint candy without the sour stench of old beer clinging to his suit. Hoping his father would laugh. That Akiteru would grin. That his mother’s worried expression would smooth over. And that they’d go home and his father would cook dinner and his mother would play music on the radio and that Akiteru would sit next to Kei and tell him all about everything._

_Kei stared at his mother. Hoping._

_His mother’s expression cracked like pressure on delicate, thin glass._

_Akiteru’s face crumpled, like high walls toppling after too much placed on his shoulders. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees and he shook like a leaf clinging to the last bit of fall._

_And suddenly his mother was there, her arms wrapped around their shoulders as she sobbed, as her shoulders trembled._

_And despite Kei being 13 years old and stubborn and stupid, he was crying too. Clinging to his mother and his brother and their toppled walls and shattered faces and their shaking shoulders. Crying as they clung to each other and their broken pieces. Sobbing as hope left them, hearts cold and starving._

_Because they knew. Kei knew._

_He’d have to leave this hospital with one less parent than before._

_And Kei felt his world—one that was previously so carefully balanced—crash and burn around him._

* * *

It was the afternoon of the day after Kei met Tadashi Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi had, as promised, left a loaf of pumpkin bread outside Kei’s door.

And it was nothing short of delicious. Taking a bit of the moist, cake-like bread was like taking a bite of a heavy cloud of flavors. The taste of pumpkin-filled his mouth, with a caramelized sweetness that covered his taste buds with a sugared sweetness. Nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves left an almost nutty taste, adding a twist of spice to the bread.

He pressed the moist crumbs to the roof of his mouth and closed his eyes. The texture of the bread was like pillows of sweet spice, fluffy, with an almost heavy feel on his tongue. It wasn’t quite _bread,_ almost like pound cake, but slightly lighter.

_How to thank him?_

He tapped his fork against his plate. It would be odd to write a thank-you letter for a loaf of bread, especially since he was right next door. He would bake something, but he couldn’t exactly bake, as he had told Tadashi yesterday. He cast a look over at his apartment’s kitchenette, thinking.

_Well, if I can’t bake…_

Kei straightened up, a glint in his eyes. 

Maybe he couldn’t bake...but he could _cook._

_Bingo._

He stood from the battered kitchen table. He needed to go on a grocery run.

* * *

Later that day, Kei found himself standing in front of Tadashi Yamaguchi’s door yet again, his fist inches away from the door. Three glass Tupperwares were tucked under his arm, and this time, he was dressed slightly nicer, dark jeans and a sweater.

And still, he hesitated.

_Is this too forward? Is this okay?_

He exhaled and knocked on the door.

A crashing sound was heard from inside, and Kei leapt backward as if the door would burst open in front of him. There was some muffled cursing, a few loud _thunk_ s. Kei frowned and leaned forward.

The door swung open. 

Kei stared into the apartment, which appeared to be empty, as he was straight into the other end of the cramped studio. _Well,_ he thought to himself. _If this apartment is haunted, I’m slightly surprised this hasn’t happened to me earlier._

He had half a mind to shut the door and set the Tupperwares in the hallway with a note, even if he didn’t believe in ghosts, but he stepped forward and glanced cautiously into the apartment for any sight of his neighbor. Nothing. _Maybe I should close the door…_

Before he did, however, something brushed against his leg.

He glanced down.

A cream-colored cat was sauntering down the hall with a possessive air.

_Hang on._

He turned on his heel, staring at the cat. _Not Marshmallow…Milo? Missy?_

“Miso!” He said aloud, snapping his fingers.

The cat turned around to give him a halfhearted glance before heading toward the dimly lit staircase.

“Hey, don’t do that!”

Kei snapped his head around to look into his neighbor’s apartment. Tadashi was there, tugging on a shoe with one hand and pulling a mask on with the other. He straightened up, his shoes still untied as he speed-walked across the hall after the cream-colored cat. Tadashi scooped Miso up into his arms.

“You can’t run away. It’s winter. You’ll get very cold outside,” Tadashi informed the cat solemnly. “And then Cheeto would be very sad because her sister is gone. Don’t make Cheeto sad.”

Miso blinked.

“That’s right.” Tadashi carried her into the apartment, then looked up to see Kei. “Oh! You were the one to knock on the door, then?”

Kei nodded.

Tadashi’s eyes crinkled in a smile, his mouth hidden behind his mask. “Cool! Come in, please!”

And once again, Kei found himself unable to even protest as he was led into his neighbor’s apartment, the door shutting behind him. He inhaled slowly. The warmth of the small apartment sank into his senses, and he relaxed with a sigh.

Tadashi bent down, and Miso leapt gracefully out of his arms, strolling away as if she hadn’t just planned an excursion. Kei’s eyes drifted around the apartment again. If possible, there were even more decorations than yesterday, but he was probably imagining it. “Can I help you with something?” Tadashi asked.

Kei shook himself mentally. “Um, kind of.” He offered up the Tupperwares. “You said you’d been surviving off instant and takeout. I figured you’d enjoy a home-cooked meal.”

Tadashi’s eyes widened as he took the Tupperwares, lifting them to his eyes. “Is this...”

“Pork katsu curry.”

His neighbor's eyes lit up. “Really? You shouldn’t have!” He cradled the Tupperwares to his chest. “I haven’t had tonkatsu in so long. My parents used to make it all the time, though,” he said wistfully, before his eyes jumped back to Kei. “This is too much. Pumpkin bread is one thing, but tonkatsu? It must’ve taken you a while.”

“It was nothing,” Kei muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His face felt like it was on fire.

“Not to me,” Tadashi said.

His face burned even hotter, but before he could protest, Tadashi’s face was lighting up again. “Why don’t you eat with me? This is plenty of food, we can split it.” 

“Oh…”

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Tadashi said quickly. “And if you have something you need to do, of course, it is Monday, after all…” he trailed off, murmuring quietly. Kei found it rather endearing.

“I don’t have anything to do,” he said, and gestured to the Tupperwares with a small smile. “Food is better when shared, no?”

So for the second time in two days, Kei was sitting at Tadashi’s kitchen table, a cat at his feet and a warm mug of cocoa in his hands. And for the first time in a long time, he was eating a meal with another person, in a cozy apartment, with a chattering stream of conversation filling the room.

“Tell me about yourself. Have you always lived in the city?” Tadashi asked, as he laid out plates and poured Kei a glass of water.

“No, I moved here about a few years ago, now. And what about you?”

Tadashi hummed. “I came here for university. So a little over seven years.”

“Mm, so you must know the city like the back of your hand,” Kei joked.

He laughed. “No, definitely not. But I fell in love with this place, definitely. Still love it. Living here is just so magical, you know?”

Kei nodded. He did know, although the feeling had died by now.

“Some people used to tell me that ‘that feeling won’t stay forever’, but I seem to be holding onto it. Just…every day feels like riding on exhilaration.”

“Are you new to the neighborhood, then?” Kei asked after a pause.

“Kind of? My old roommate and I lived together a ways away. But she was planning to move in with her girlfriend, but I suggested that I just move out. It’s been an adventure, that’s for sure. This apartment isn’t too bad, but that’s just because I’ve been buttering up the landlord. And what about you?”

Kei shrugged. “I had a roommate for a bit, too, but ended up moving out when I switched jobs. And here I am.”

“You must know the neighborhood pretty well, then!”

Kei chuckled. “I don’t think I could ever get used to it here,” he joked. Tadashi laughed.“So what do you do for work?” Kei asked him.

Tadashi tapped his chopsticks on his plate twice. “I’m a web developer.”

“Interesting. Tell me more, please.”

Tadashi’s cheeks tinged pink, but he continued. “I design websites, so things like coding, in a bunch of languages. Java, Python, HTML. Stuff like that.” He jerked a thumb at a door. “My setup is in there.”

“So you’re used to working from home, then?”

“Yup! That’s an upside of it,” Tadashi joked, then chucked. “Clients are annoying sometimes, but I like it. What do you do?”

Kei hummed. “I’m an archivist. For the Met.”

“Really? That’s really interesting.” Tadashi leaned forward a tad. “What kind of stuff do you do?”

“Normally I work on a...wide range of things, actually. Preserving objects, doing research, stuff like that. Sometimes I work with researchers.”

“So what have you been doing in quarantine, then?”

“I’m in charge of planning new collections, digital records, research. So, for example.” Kei gestured with his chopsticks. “There’s an exhibition right now, Making the Met. Covers the history of the museum’s exhibitions from 1870 to modern-day, so there’s a wide range of time periods and regions.” He took a bite of his food, a little embarrassed to be talking about his work.

“Go on, please.” Tadashi encouraged.

Kei swallowed, feeling his cheeks flush. “Well...there’s a bit of a matter of morals in regards to art. For example, how the art was acquired in past years. It’s one thing to appreciate a culture, it’s another to steal aspects of it from its origins. Which is what happened during colonization and artwork. I did a bit of independent research on those origins. The exhibit has these sort of ‘disclaimers’—” he air-quoted. “—on display, about what the Met did to acquire those pieces, and how they’ve changed since then.”

“Whoa.” Tadashi took a bite of his food, a thoughtful look on his face. “I guess I never really thought about that kind of stuff before. Like, pillaging and colonizing.”

“I don’t blame you. These kinds of things have been covered up by history, and although there are requests to return stolen works, they’re not often fulfilled.”

Tadashi made a face. “How awful.”

Kei nodded, then laughed. “Sorry. I tend to geek out when I talk about my work.”

“No, no, it’s fascinating!” Tadashi reassured him.

Kei’s face burned, and he cleared his throat. “Are you enjoying the food?”

Tadashi’s face split into a beam. “Yes! It’s amazing. Best meal I’ve had in…” he paused, pondering. “...well, forever, I guess. Tonkatsu curry is my favorite. The pork is delicious, it’s so tender and flavorful, and the outside is so crisp.” He picked up a piece. “And the curry is delicious. It’s spicy but it’s so good,” he sighed dreamily. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Kei’s attempt to cool his cheeks failed miserably as a flush of red spread to his cheeks. “It’s really nothing, I’m happy you like it.”

“I _love_ it.”

Kei set down his chopsticks suddenly. “This is off-topic,” he said. “But isn’t it a bit early for Christmas music?” 

Tadashi made a face of mock horror. “It is never early for Christmas music.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it November?”

“It’s never early for Christmas music.”

“I’d like to argue against that.”

“I’d like to argue against _that._ Do you not like Christmas music?” Tadashi demanded.

Kei frowned. “I don’t particularly like Christmas, in general.”

“Oh my God. You’re kidding.”

And so the rest of the evening continued, chatting and swapping stories. Kei found himself warming up to this man, his laughter and his smiles and his excitement for life and for the future. He was, if possible, the polar opposite of him, cheerful and hopeful and full of a sort of warmth that Kei felt...drawn to, almost.

Before he knew it, it was almost 1 am, the plates clean and lamps shining in the street.

“I should be getting home,” he said, with a bit of reluctance.

Tadashi started and glanced at a clock on the wall—lined with colorful tinsel—and seemed surprised to see the time. “Oh, it’s late, I didn’t even realize.”

Kei smiled. “You’re easy to talk to, Tadashi.”

Tadashi flushed. “So are you.”

They stared at each other for a moment, before Kei managed to get to his feet.

“Goodnight, Tadashi,” he said, feeling breathless.

And Tadashi beamed at him.

“Goodnight, Kei,” he said.

* * *

Kei didn’t exactly know when he and Tadashi started having dinner together every night.

It started with the day after they ate together for the first time—Tadashi had invited him over for election night. Kei had kept it playing on his laptop, while Tadashi had a zoom call set up with his friends. The original awkward interactions seemed to die in history as Tadashi’s old roommate started cursing loudly as the results slowly made their way in.

The next day was the same. Sat at the table with cups of cocoa. Talked about where they had grown up and the schools they had attended. Their favorite restaurants nearby. Talked more about their jobs. About the future. 

And the next. Ordered pizza and devoured a box while they binged _The Queen’s Gambit_ together. The next day was spaghetti and meatballs—with some help from Tadashi after Kei showed him how to make the meatballs, this time in Kei’s apartment. Tadashi was aghast at the state of his heater

* * *

Kei knocked on Tadashi’s door three days later with a cupcake and a lighter.

Tadashi opened it, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Kei?” He asked, his voice scratchy.

Kei awkwardly lit a candle with one hand.

“I only do this once a year,” he said.

Tadashi’s eyes lit up.

He flicked the lighter closed, grimaced, and launched into a shitty rendition of _Happy Birthday._

He was probably very off-key and it was half-assed and sad, but the look on Tadashi’s face was worth it.

* * *

“I love this city,” Tadashi said to Kei.

It was an unusually warm day in late November, and Tadashi and Kei were at Sheep’s Meadow in Central Park. Tadashi was spreading a picnic blanket over the grass. A few feet away, Kei was unpacking a bag full of paper plates and napkins, and a few sandwiches.

“What makes you say that?” Kei asked him, setting down a plastic container with a few chocolate chip cookies.

Tadashi hummed. “It always feels...alive, you know. I see new things every day. Someone playing the violin on a fire escape. A kid learning to ride a bike at a dead-end street.” He turned to smile at Kei. “Meeting new people.”

“There’s not much of meeting new people during a pandemic, though,” Kei pointed out, ever pessimistic.

Tadashi shrugged, sitting down on the corner of the blanket. “But I met you.”

* * *

It was a cold day in early December, and Kei’s fingers were stiff as he made his way home. He unlocked the door to his apartment with one hand, awkwardly balancing several packages with the other arm. After struggling for a moment, he kicked the door open with his heel and shoved it open with his hand, the packages tipping precariously. 

A rush of warmth blew into the hallway.

He nearly dropped the packages in shock. _The fuck?_ Did the landlord finally fix his heater? He shut the door behind him, shoving the packages onto the desk before crouching down next to the heater under the window. He swiped a finger over the metal, pulling away when his fingers burned. _Definitely fixed._

He stood, brushing his hands off as he frowned. How could the heater have been fixed now when he’d been asking for it to be fixed weeks ago? How could he have—

He swiveled around, kicked the door open again, and headed down the hallway before knocking on Tadashi’s door. 

“I should just get you a key,” Tadashi sighed as he opened it. “We’re constantly at each other’s apartments, anyway—”

“When we had dinner together that first time, you said you’d been buttering up the landlord.”

Tadashi stared at him. “What?”

“You said you’d been buttering up the landlord.”

Tadashi laughed hesitantly. “Yeah...he has a soft spot for orange nougat…”

“Did you bribe the landlord into fixing the heater?”

Tadashi colored crimson.

Before he could deny it, Kei wrapped him in a hug.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

Tadashi’s arms tightened around him. “It was nothing,” he said, somewhat sheepishly.

“It was something.” Kei released him. Tadashi’s face was pink, and Kei’s probably was, too. He cleared his throat. “Well, now we can have dinner at my apartment.”

Tadashi beamed.

* * *

It was the 17th of December when Kei was roughly shaken awake at 6am.

He stirred, not wanting to open his eyes.

“Kei,” someone hissed in his ear. “Wake up. This is important.”

Kei groaned and shut his eyes tighter. 

“Kei.”

Kei huffed out a breath.

“Wake. Up.”

“Nah,” he murmured. “Not now.”

“Yes, now. This is very important.”

He opened his eyes.

Tadashi was staring straight at him.

Kei stared right back.

“How’d you get into my apartment?” He asked.

Tadashi huffed. “We were binging Stranger Things and we fell asleep, obviously—”

“Obviously.”

“—shut up, but you need to wake up, it’s snowing.”

Kei blinked.

“Get _up,_ ” Tadashi insisted.

“You woke me up because it’s snowing.”

“Yes, I did. Get up.”

And Kei let Tadashi haul him to his feet and drag him to the window. He jabbed at the glass.

“It’s _snowing,_ ” he insisted.

Kei squinted outside. “I don’t see anything.”

“It’s fucking snowing, Kei. Look.”

“I _am_ looking.”

“Obviously not. Look harder.”

“I _am_ looking harder—oh.”

“See?”

He did see. Little flurries of white were flicking past the window, a few clinging to the glass right in front of his face. Kei blinked a few times.

Tadashi beamed. “It’s so pretty,” he swooned. “I love the snow. It’s so magical to watch, isn’t it?”

“It’s much more enjoyable when my heater works.”

Tadashi snorted, before his gaze lit up. “I’m going to play some Christmas music!” He said happily, turning around to grab his phone, before Kei grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t,” he said. “Let’s just enjoy the snow.”

Tadashi’s gaze clouded with confusion for a moment, before he smiled and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s just enjoy the snow.”

* * *

Kei was half-asleep when his phone started ringing, the afternoon of Christmas Eve.

He groaned and reached blindly for it, cursing whatever god that was waking him up when he felt like he could’ve slept through the entire day. He held it an inch from his face, squinting at the name displayed on the screen.

**AKITERU**

**DECLINE/ACCEPT**

He froze.

Akiteru was calling him. His brother was calling him.

_Should he pick up? Decline? Let it ring? Would he try again? Would he just give up? Would he leave a message? Would he text him?_

He stared at the screen, willing it to—he didn’t really know what he was willing it to do. Maybe to stop ringing and for Akiteru to give up so he wouldn’t have to deal with this. Maybe for his phone to die or somehow answer the call by itself. Perhaps it could explode, killing him in the process.

He let it ring a few more times before picking it up.

“Hey,” he said, his voice still rough from sleep.

There was a sigh. “Kei,” Akiteru said.

Kei sat up slowly. “What’s up?”

Akiteru sighed again. “How’s it going?” He asked.

“Fine.”

“That’s…” Akiteru paused. “...that’s good.”

Kei ran a hand through his hair. “Do you need something?”

“Have you called mom today?”

“No, I just woke up.”

“Oh. Did I wake you?”

“It’s fine.”

“...okay. Well...call mom, okay? She’s having a hard time today.”

Kei turned this over in his mind for a moment before realizing. “Oh. It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll call her.”

Something in Akiteru’s voice relaxed. “Okay. Good. Now. Have you been eating properly? How’s work? Have you been feeling okay? I don’t really know how the cases are in your area—”

Kei huffed. “Jesus, Aki. Cases are fine. I don’t go out much. I feel fine. Work’s fine. I’ve been eating well.”

“Cases are _not_ fine, Kei, you’re in the middle of a third spike—” Akiteru was quickly slipping into his lecture mode. Kei groaned inwardly.

“Okay, cases are not fine, but I don’t go out so it doesn’t matter.”

“Are you socially interacting? How are your friends?”

“Yes. They’ve been calling me incessantly.”

“And do you talk to them?”

“No.”

“That’s not socially interacting, Kei. That’s social avoidance.”

Kei groaned—aloud, this time. “I’ve been socially interacting, I promise.”

“Who’ve you been interacting with, then?”

“My neighbor. Goodbye.”

“Neighbor? Kei!” Akiteru shouted, but Kei had already hung up.

He stared at the screen for a moment.

Then he clicked a contact and held the phone to his ear.

* * *

Three hours, Kei banged on Tadashi’s door.

Tadashi opened it, and stared at him. “Hi,” he said. “Merry Christmas Eve?”

Kei lifted a bottle of bourbon. “Are you busy?”

Tadashi grinned.

* * *

“Do you believe in like…” Tadashi tipped his empty glass of eggnog with a finger. “...love, I guess?”

Kei leaned back into the couch. “Yeah.”

Tadashi hummed. “I do, too.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Sometimes, I just…” Tadashi stared into his glass for a moment. “I don’t know. What even is love? Does love at first sight exist? Like, those kinds of feelings.”

Kei started laughing, although he didn’t really know why. “You want an actual answer?”

Tadashi started laughing too. “Sure.”

“I don’t think ‘love at first sight’ exists,” Kei said, tipping his head back to stare at the cracked paint on the ceiling.

Tadashi looked up from his glass. “Really?”

“No.” 

“Hm. How come?”

Kei shifted so he could face Tadashi.“What people classify as ‘love at first sight’ is just an amount of attraction that you feel towards a person when you first see them. Sure, that attraction can lead to intrigue which leads to, say, getting to know that person, right?”

Tadashi nodded.

“But it’s not really love. Once you do get to know that person, and you start to feel differently and you like them for reasons other than aesthetic attraction, and more romantic attraction, that’s love.”

Tadashi propped his arm up on the back of the couch. “So what’s romantic attraction to you?”

“A desire for a romantic relationship.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m factual.”

“I guess I agree with you.”

Kei drained his glass of eggnog and set it down on the floor next to the couch. “So what’s romantic attraction to you, then?”

Tadashi paused, pondering. “A realization,” he said finally. “A devotion.”

“Slightly vague, but I’ll take it.”

He laughed. “I mean, like once you find a person, and you get to know them, and you start feeling differently. There’s a want for a relationship with that person, but that want is like...a commitment to that person. Like saying, “I don’t know what the future will bring but I want you in it.” You realize that. Your heart is devoted to that commitment.”

“But what if I love someone but don’t want to commit to a relationship with them?” Kei asked.

“Your brain might have other commitments, but your heart has that one. There can be conflicts.”

Kei paused, thinking.

“That makes sense,” he said slowly. “But can the heart have multiple commitments?”

“Of course,” Tadashi hummed. “You can love many things at once. You can have a commitment to friends, to family, to lovers. It’s still love.”

“So you believe that you can romantically love two people at once.”

Tadashi snorted. “Of course. I’ve had multiple crushes on multiple people of multiple genders at once, _regardless_ of people saying ‘you can’t really love two people at once,” he said, closing his eyes.

Kei stared at him.

Tadashi opened his eyes. “Did I just drunkenly come out to you?”

Kei stifled a laugh. “Yeah.”

“Ah, well.” Tadashi closed his eyes again. “I’ll regret this tomorrow, but that’s okay.”

“Will this help?” Kei extended a hand. “I’m Demisexual.”

Tadashi opened his eyes again and shook Kei’s hand with a giggle. “Nice to meet you. I’m Bisexual.”

“It’s a pleasure.”

Tadashi giggled again. “So, Mr. Demisexual,” he said. “In regards to love, then. How does your theory apply to you?”

“Well…” Kei exhaled. “The initial attraction is more on the personality than appearance, but I suppose that’s the same...intrigue that applies to me, too. Which leads to getting to know that person, leading to an emotional connection. And then the attraction changes.”

“But it’s not an aesthetic attraction to a romantic attraction, it’s more of a…” Tadashi trailed off.

“Platonic attraction to a romantic one,” Kei finished. “Because I form an emotional bond before experiencing romantic attraction, then the process takes longer.”

Tadashi sighed. “You talk about love as if it’s a science.”

“I guess so.”

“You guess that you talk about it that way or that you guess that love is a science?”

“Either.” Kei breathed in, out. “Or.”

“That wasn’t an option.”

Kei chucked.

“I’m going to ask you a question,” Tadashi said.

“Ask away, Tadashi.”

“Why do you hate Christmas so much?”

He froze.

“Sorry, that was...forward. I’m probably drunk.” Tadashi rested his hands under his chin and sighed again.

Kei slowly thawed his limbs. “It’s fine,” he said, his jaw stiff. “I’ll tell you later. Because I’m definitely drunk.”

“You want to get back to your apartment, then?”

“I don’t want to leave.”

Kei bit down on his tongue after that, but too many glasses of eggnog kept his heart moving faster than his brain. “I mean,” he said. “I can leave. I guess.”

Tadashi stared at him. 

Kei cursed inwardly.

But Tadashi blinked and smiled.

“So stay,” he said.

* * *

Kei awoke the next day to the smell of French toast.

He inhaled slowly and lifted his head. With an exhale, he opened his eyes.

He was sitting on Tadashi’s couch, still in his clothes from yesterday. He looked around, spotted his glasses on a cardboard box near his feet, and slipped them on.

Tadashi was making French toast just a few feet away.

He looked up from the stove, and gave him a winning smile. “Merry Christmas,” he sang.

Kei looked at him, and smiled. “Merry Christmas,” he said.

“Are you hungry? How did you sleep? How are you feeling?” Tadashi peppered him with questions as he turned to flip the toast on the stove.

“Starving,” Kei said, making his way to stand next to Tadashi. “I slept well. I feel good.”

“Good.” Tadashi slid the slices of toast onto a plate. “Sit and eat.”

Kei obeyed, and Tadashi turned off the stove, and they sat across from each other. Tadashi drizzled a slow stream of golden syrup and sifted a dusting of powdered sugar to Kei’s toast, then offered him a plate of bacon and a bowl of berries. “You’re a heavy sleeper,” he said. “I’m surprised you didn’t wake up earlier.”

Kei chuckled. Normally, he _was_ a light sleeper, always waking up at the honking of cars or the wail of sirens in the middle of the night. He was always irritable when he woke up. Today, however, he felt oddly good-natured. “I’m surprised too,” he said. “Normally the smell of bacon would have woken me up much earlier.”

Tadashi laughed, spooning a few berries onto his plate. Kei smiled again, and took a careful bite of his food. The syrup had soaked into the bread, which covered his tongue with a light sweetness. The fried, egg-soaked bread had a hint of spice to it, the berries adding a bright burst of flavor in his mouth.

He cleared his plate quickly. Across him, Tadashi set down his fork, and gazed at him solemnly.

“You didn’t answer my question last night,” Tadashi said softly.

Kei’s mouth filled with a bitter taste, and he swallowed. “You mean that stuff about why I hate Christmas?”

“Yeah. That.” Tadashi watched him carefully.

Kei set down his fork. “Well…”

As he paused, he was hit with a sharp feeling of fearful dread. Grasping for words. _What to say? How to say it?_ He felt Tadashi’s gaze on him, and instinctively stiffened, scrambling for something. Anything.

“Kei?”

Tadashi spoke his name, gently, kindly. He forced himself to breathe.

“I don’t know how to start,” he said softly.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Tadashi told him, and Kei felt the kindness behind it, the care.

“No, I should. I want to.” 

_Where to start?_

“I’ll start with my father.”

Tadashi nodded.

Another inhale, another exhale.

“My dad was a good man. He was kind-hearted and strong. He cared for my mother. He cared for my brother, and he cared for me.”

Kei inhaled again. “He was tall,” he said. “So tall that my mother had to stand on a stool if she wanted to look him in the eye. He was a good cook. He’d always come home from work before my mother and cook dinner. She always got home late.”

Tadashi didn’t say anything. Just listened.

“He liked to pick me up from school every once in a while. He’d buy me candy at convenience stores on the way home. He taught my brother and I how to play volleyball and he’d attend all our games.”

He paused and looked at Tadashi, waiting for him to say something. Tadashi seemed to realize this.

“He seems like a nice man,” Tadashi said gently.

Kei nodded. “He was.”

They sat there for a few moments in silence before Kei was able to speak again.

“He was a casual drinker. He’d have drinks often, and at first, it was just a little. A beer here and there, a whiskey during dinner. He’d always be careful to never come home drunk, and if he did, he’d always have a sober friend with him. That was my mother’s rule.

“Then he started drinking more. It was never bad. He’d just...act out a little. He never hit us or yelled at us, he just acted differently. My mother didn’t like it, but she didn’t complain much. My brother would always distract me if or when he got home after dark, but I guess I didn’t really think of that. I was...10, maybe 11.” Kei let out a harsh laugh. “I was stupid. Young and stupid. I didn’t notice it back then, but I look back, and it was just...so _fucking_ obvious.”

Tadashi’s expression softened, his eyes glassy.

“It got worse, I guess. He didn’t cook much. My brother would do the cooking and I would watch him. My mom’s job kept her late and my dad wasn’t home until later. He’d sleep late, too.

“My mother found out he got fired from his job. They argued. They always used to argue, before he started drinking more, but they always worked it out, it always got resolved. My mom used to lecture my brother and I about it. ‘Arguing is a form of communication,’ she’d say. ‘When we argue, we tell each other what isn’t working and we figure out how to fix it.’ But when he started drinking more, they never argued about anything.”

Kei cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and continued. “But the night before, they argued for hours. I was 13, and all I remember is not being able to sleep that night. It was Christmas Eve the next day, and my father wasn’t around. We got a phone call during dinner.”

His breath hitched, but he continued. “We were told that my father got into an accident. A car accident, late at night. You always hear about car crashes and drunk drivers, but I never imagined...it could be my own father causing one.

“My mother rushed us to the hospital. My brother and I had to stay back in the waiting room, and all I can remember for hours is the same goddamn Christmas songs playing over and over and over—” Kei choked. Words were stuck in his throat. His eyes burned, his chest ached.

And Tadashi was there, next to him, there for him. He was holding him close in his arms, he was there. 

Kei began to sob.

Tadashi’s arms were around him.

Kei clung to him as tears poured down his face, dripping down his chin. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath.

Tadashi held him tighter.

“Let it out,” he murmured. “Just...cry. I’m here.”

Kei held onto him as tight as he could.

_He’s here._

* * *

After a few minutes, Kei was able to take a few shaky breaths, and Tadashi loosened his arms, but still kept them around his shoulders.

“You haven’t really let yourself cry, huh?”

Kei shook his head, wiping his eyes. He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry I’m being so…” He paused, at a loss for words.

“No.” Tadashi put a finger to Kei’s lips. “No apologies. You needed to tell someone and you needed to cry.”

Kei nodded slowly.

“You’re very strong for telling me this.”

Kei let out a chuckle, but it was weak. “I don’t feel strong,” he said quietly.

“But you are,” Tadashi said.

Kei’s brittle heart warmed a little at those three small words.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Don’t thank me for being a friend,” Tadashi scolded, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“I’m thanking you anyway,” Kei said.

Tadashi smiled.

They fell into a silence, broken only by the faint sounds of city mornings.

Tadashi fiddled with a mug that he cupped in his hands. After almost two months of knowing him, and Kei knew exactly what he wanted to do.

“If you have a question, ask,” he said, not unkindly.

Tadashi looked at him, a little startled. “Oh,” he said. “I guess I was just wondering...was there a reason that you wanted to drink last night?”

Kei shrugged. “I don’t drink often,” he said. “Since, well. You know.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

Kei stared at his plate. “I had just called my mother,” he said after a moment. “She was a little upset, which is natural, of course. But I don’t like thinking about my father. My mother has started to glorify him in her mind, I think.”

“What does that mean?”

He shrugged again. “She calls it a horrible accident. Which I guess was true, but she doesn’t like to think of him as an alcoholic. Which is true. He was sick. He needed help and he wasn’t able to get it.”

Tadashi seemed to be at a loss for words.

“I tend to overthink when it comes to my father,” Kei said softly. “I wanted a distraction.”

“Are you worried about your drinking?” Tadashi asked.

Kei paused, thinking.“Not...currently,” he said slowly. “I think I shouldn’t rely on it just to stop overthinking.”

Tadashi nodded slowly.

Kei sighed. “Tell me, Tadashi,” he said. “Do you have any Christmas traditions?”

Tadashi’s brow contorted. “I mean...yeah, but they’re all with my parents or whatever.”

Kei frowned. “Well,” he said. “We’ll just have to make our own this year.”

* * *

“So what’s your New Year’s resolution?”

The two were sitting at Kei’s kitchen table, eating breakfast. Kei was reading The NY Times. Tadashi was doing the crossword. Kei sipped at his coffee. “To not murder anyone.”

Tadashi hit his arm. “Actually.”

Kei shrugged. “I usually don’t do New Year’s resolutions. They’re too easy to give up.”

“I do, though.”

“Then what’s your New Year’s resolution this year?”

Tadashi clicked his tongue. “To try and clean out my inbox every day.”

Kei snorted.

“Shush. I have a list.” Tadashi ticked off his fingers. “To learn how to cook. To grow a pineapple plant. To meet new people. To unpack the rest of my boxes. And to try and date someone.”

Kei frowned.

“Date?” He asked. 

Tadashi looked up from his crossword. “Yeah,” he said. “My friends say I’m lonely. Plus, all my current infatuations are hopeless.”

Kei’s heart ached, but he managed to choke out, “Current infatuations?”

Something flashed in Tadashi’s eyes, but he grinned suddenly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

* * *

“Well,” Tadashi plopped down on the worn couch next to Kei. “It’s been a hell of a year, Kei.”

Kei nodded wordlessly.

“A shitty, awful, terrible year.”

“You can say that again.”

“A terrible year.”

Kei nodded again.

“And yet things are coming to an end.” Tadashi set down a bottle of champagne and handed Kei an empty glass. “Glad I’m celebrating it with you.”

Kei accepted with a smile. “You’re quite optimistic.”

“And you should be too. A vaccine is made. People have improved. And I met you. So.” Tadashi opened his computer and started pulling up the NYC ball drop. “This is a fresh start, Kei.”

“Do you normally watch the ball drop?”

“Not in Times Square, no.”

“How come you’re celebrating it with me, then?”

Tadashi frowned. “Because you’re my friend.”

Kei opened his mouth, then shut it.

“Just a few more minutes,” Tadashi said happily.

Kei stared at the screen, loud music blasting from Tadashi’s computer. “Do you ever wonder how much it costs to have to play an ad behind the ball on New Year’s?” He wondered aloud.

Tadashi shushed him. 

“I’m serious. This thing is like a giant ad.”

Tadashi shushed him again, pouring out a glass. “This is a celebration, Kei.”

“I don’t particularly like champagne.”

“It’s New Year’s. Of course we have to have champagne.”

“You don’t like champagne either.”

“I don’t, no.”

“Then—”

“Shush.”

Kei shut his mouth.

_59._

“I’m excited,” Tadashi said happily. He reached out and squeezed Kei’s hand.

_56._

Kei looked at him, in the dark of the apartment, lit up only by the flashing lights of Times Square on the screen.

“So I’m your friend, Tadashi?” He asked softly.

_47._

Tadashi looked at him strangely.

“Of course you are, Kei.”

_43._

Kei exhaled, not knowing what he expected.

“I’m happy,” he said.

_38._

Tadashi smiled at him, and it was brighter than any lights in the city.

“I am, too.”

_34._

Kei looked to Tadashi. Tadahi’s eyes bright, his smile full.

He looked beautiful.

_30._

“I’m happy that this year is over,” Tadashi sighed. “I’m happy that we found each other. I’m happy that I’m with you.”

_26._

“I’m happy that I’m with you too.”

_I wish I could tell you so many things but I don’t know how._

_23._

“I’m happy that you’re here next to me and that I’m making new traditions with you.”

_You look beautiful in the light of your computer and I don’t know how to tell you that._

_19._

“I’m happy that I found someone like you.”

_Everything is confusing and yet you seem clear to my eyes._

_17._

Tadashi wordlessly took his hand.

_And yet how do I express these words that swirl around my head like lost bits of paper in a wind-filled storm?”_

_12._

“Tadashi,” he said.

_10._

“Kei.”

_9._

Lights flashed.

_8._

People were cheering outside. 

_7._

_Tadashi,_

_6._

_I will tell you someday._

_5._

_I think I’m in love with you._

_4._

_Words left unsaid hung between us on fine strings of thread but I’ll tell you someday._

“Three,” Tadashi said.

Kei looked at him.

“Two,” he said.

“One.”

The computer screen exploded with lights and confetti and cheers, but Kei wasn’t looking at it.

“Happy New Year, Tadashi.”

* * *

Twenty days later. Twenty days, and Kei was still a fucking coward.

He was in the same apartment, on the same couch, in the same exact seat with the same computer in front of him and he was still too much of a fucking coward. 

A lot had changed in 20 days. By some miracle, Tadashi had unpacked all of his boxes, which leaves his apartment looking uncomfortably bare despite random books and art and just _stuff_ cluttering every open space. Tadashi had met everyone in the building and also a few new people from across the street—and to no one’s surprise—they all loved him. He had a baby pineapple plant that sat on his windowsill, from the top of a pineapple that Kei had bought for him as a joke, which had surprisingly sprouted roots and grown approximately 1 ½ cm taller. He has successfully made two meals for Kei, without burning anything.

His inbox was still stuffed full of unread emails, however, and he had not dated anyone. Kei had refrained from asking why. 

* * *

Tadashi’s hands were warm when Kei laced his fingers with his.

“Tadashi,” he whispered. “I think…”

Tadashi stared at him, waiting in silence. He squeezed his hand. Kei squeezed back.

“What do you think?” Tadashi asked quietly.

Kei sighed.

“I have too many things I’d like to say,” he said. 

Tadashi was quiet for a moment.

“Then take all the time you need to say them,” he said. “I’ll be here to listen.”

Kei stared at him for another moment, before speaking.

“You look beautiful,” He said to him.

Tadashi’s shocked face could’ve made him laugh out loud.

“That’s thing number one. There’s six more.”

“There’s six more?” Tadashi asked.

Kei nodded.

“I think your smile is the best thing on this earth.” 

Tadashi’s shocked face grew even more shocked, if possible.

“Your freckles are adorable.”

Tadashi colored red. “Where is this coming from?” He asked, covering his cheeks.

Kei clicked his tongue. “That’s thing number three. Number four: Everything is so confusing in this world.”

“It’s a confusing world,” Tadashi replied, still covering his face.

Kei smirked.

“You’re not confusing, though,” he said.

Tadashi peeked out from behind his fingers. “I’m not?” He asked.

Kei shook his head.

“That was four. I used to hate waking up in the mornings.”

Tadashi didn’t respond, but Kei continued.

“And yet, you make me excited to start the new day.”

Tadashi’s hands dropped and he stared at Kei. Kei grinned. “Sorry. That was cheesy.”

“No warning at all!” Tadashi complained, and he hid his face behind his hands again. Kei pulled his hands down from his face, and Tadashi looked at him with half-hearted resentment.

“That,” Kei said. “Was thing number five.”

“Tadashi, sometimes I look at you and I can’t bring myself to take my eyes off of you.”

Tadashi’s lips parted and he stared at Kei.

“That’s six,” he said softly.

Tadashi leaned forward.

“I don’t think I can take my eyes off you, either,” he said softly.

Tadashi kissed him.

And Kei kissed him back.

* * *

Tadashi and Kei were lying on Tadashi’s bed. Kei was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, and Tadashi had a blue cardigan on. His breath was on Kei’s neck, Kei’s cheek pressed into Tadashi’s hair.

Kei stared at the ceiling, an arm under his head. Tadashi curled up to his side, and Kei wordlessly started carding his fingers through his hair.

They stayed there for a moment, suspended in time. The whole world seemed to slow around them, and yet Kei could feel the seconds slipping away. Despite this, he felt...content.

“You know how we talked about commitments and devotion and stuff like that?” He murmured into Tadashi’s hair.

Tadashi laughed quietly. “I talked about that. You talked about science love.”

“It was a discussion, not a one-sided conversation,” Kei protested.

“That’s what you think.”

“My point is, Tadashi,” Kei said softly. “I’m intrigued by you. I’ve gotten to know you. I’ve formed an emotional bond with you.”

Tadashi giggled.

“Don’t laugh. I’m being romantic.”

“What you’re being is a robot.”

“I’ve had a realization and I want to commit to you and my heart has a devotion to a future with you.”

Tadashi was quiet for a moment, his gentle breathing heard in the quiet of the night. “Go on, please,” he said.

“I don’t know what my future will be, but I want you in it.”

Tadashi turned his head around to look at Kei. Kei looked back at him and traced a finger over his cheeks.

“Both my head and my heart have committed themselves to you and I have no want to change it,” He whispered to him.

Tadashi pressed a gentle, sweet kiss to Kei’s lips. “Then I want a future with you, too,” he whispered into Kei’s lips.

Kei kissed him back, his heart filled with warmth as he held Tadashi close.

“Thing number seven,” he said. “I think I’m in love with you, Tadashi.”

“I think I’m in love with you too.”

Kei was silent for a moment before he spoke. “I’ve only known you for three months,” he said quietly.

Tadashi hummed.

“I’ve only been in short-term relationships.”

Tadashi’s brow furrowed and he pushed himself up to stare into Kei’s eyes.

“Kei,” he said sternly. “Do you think I care about that? I care about you. I don’t care if you’ve never been in a serious relationship before or if we’ve only known each other for three months. It’s been an amazing three months, right?”

Kei nodded.

“I fall in love easily, but you’re the only person who...I feel committed in both head and heart. Despite all my past crushes or infatuations.” Tadashi took Kei’s head and his hands. “Maybe I could fantasize about having a future with them, but you are the only one who’s ever felt this real.”

He ran a thumb over Kei’s jawline. “I’ve been lonely. And then you knocked on my door, and here was this pretty guy who came waltzing into my life like he belonged there all this time.” He pressed his lips slowly to Kei’s jawline. “I think I just needed a friend at first. But the heart has his own ideas.”

Kei cupped a hand over Tadashi’s. “I don’t fall in love easily. Or quickly,” he said. “But I met you three months ago. I figured out a few weeks ago that I might love you. And yet it feels like I’ve known you forever, so maybe that’s why it doesn’t feel quick.”

“Sometimes this world spins too quickly,” Tadashi said softly.

Kei kissed him again, then entwined their fingers. “Then could we go slow?”

Tadashi gave his hand a gentle squeeze. His hands were soft and warm, and Kei traced his knuckles with his free hand.

“Slow sounds good,” Tadashi whispered.

Kei smiled.

And they laid there together as their world spun around them. Along together, their fingers entwined, their breathing gentle. Feelings warm and content. Their hearts committed.

And they loved forevermore.

**Author's Note:**

> As I write the notes and as I reread the fic I’m starting to hate it more and more.
> 
> I love tonkatsu, pumpkin bread, cocoa, and French toast so you can see my cook/baker side coming out while writing this. And yes, that is the Miso that showed up in one of my TsukkiYama Day fics.
> 
> AS ALWAYS BETA'D BY MY ABSOLUTELY AMAZING BETA READER [midnightswordsdance](https://midnightswordsdance.tumblr.com/) ([midnightswordsdance on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightswordsdance/pseuds/midnightswordsdance)) She has some kick-ass Seventeen fics if you’re into that
> 
> A big thank you to [Mereibitch](https://mereibitch.tumblr.com/) ([Pepper_Moon on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepper_Moon/pseuds/Pepper_Moon)) I MISS YOU PLEASE COME BACK TO TUMBLR I’M WORRIED SERIOUSLY IF YOU SEE THIS PLEASE SCREAM AT ME SO I KNOW YOU’RE OKAY!!!!!
> 
> And another big thank you to [lessons-from-moths](https://lessons-from-moths.tumblr.com/lessons-from-moths) ([LessonsFromMoths on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LessonsFromMoths/pseuds/LessonsFromMoths)) She’s amazing check her stuff out please. This fic is dedicated to her because she’s a literal angel and I must dedicate a fic to everyone in the pac-man squad and she’s so supportive and sweet and I like to scream with her about my headcanons + she is a amazing writer
> 
> Also, there’s a pretty guy reference somewhere in here.
> 
> If you liked, please kudo and comment!!


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